To Save a Prince
by Footprints In The Snow
Summary: His dark gray eyes rested on the frightened pale face in front of him, even as his vision dangerously wavered toward the blackness threatening its edges. The little elfling trembling against him was his top priority, no matter the cost to himself. He would save Legolas, even if he died trying... Little!Legolas. Just a cute little family piece. REVISED, BONUS CHAPTER!
1. Chapter 1

_Agony weaved through his bones, lighting up every nerve in his body like lightning in the night sky as it laid a demanding grip on him. His lungs clenched in painful spasms and his muscles felt as though they would fray at the slightest movement._

 _But he fought on._

 _His dark gray eyes rested on the frightened pale face in front of him, even as his vision dangerously wavered toward the blackness threatening its edges. The little elfling trembling against him was his top priority, no matter the cost to himself._

 _He would save Legolas, even if he died trying._

* * *

A headache threatened at the temples of Queen Lanthir. Her dark hair was pulled over one shoulder, the mahogany braids reflecting the fire dying in the stone fireplace just feet away. She would have to ask one of the servants to stoke it soon.

"My lady, what of the trade dispute in the northern colonies? Surely it is of no consequence?"

Gathon, one of the king's many advisors, looked at the queen in expectation. The small council meeting had been going on for hours and it felt as though nothing was accomplished. Trade agreements and smaller civil disputes were handled by Queen Lanthir, unless they required the attention of the king.

But lately, Lanthir had been unable to focus on these meetings. She missed the trees and the forest, feeling cut off and confined by the stone walls of the palace. Lanthir longed for the rivers and streams of her childhood and the waterfalls for which she was named.

It had been far too long since she had been able to step away from councilors and advisors, and meetings she felt had dragged on too long. Nothing had been solved, the queen had merely sat back and watched as the councilors argued about petty things.

Lanthir met the eyes of her most trusted advisor, Elhael, and frowned. It was clear that he was as tired of these proceedings as she was. And if _he_ was tired, then she knew the point was moot. If she let it go on much longer, the meeting would stretch into the evening.

"Gentleman," she stood, resisting the urge to stretch her arms over her head. "I think that is enough for today."

She said nothing more as she strode from the chamber, glancing one last time at the now-dead fire in the hearth. The moment she exited, she smirked slightly at the shocked expressions on the councilor's faces.

"I was beginning to wonder when you would tire of their incessant arguing."

Elhael fell into step next to the queen, angling his silver-haired head toward her. Lanthir slowed her pace to allow the elf to walk more comfortably, his limp preventing him from walking any quicker.

Elhael had been wounded in the Last Alliance, saving the life of King Oropher's advisor, Galion. He paid the price, losing the mobility he'd enjoyed in his youth. He'd given up his role as a warrior and followed his friend Galion, becoming an advisor instead. He and Galion were, in Lanthir's opinion, the most level-headed of Mirkwood's advisors.

"It seems as though they cannot focus on anything beyond their own differences," the elf continued. "It is a shame they can't agree on even something as simple as trade agreements."

" _Ai,_ " Lanthir sighed. "If I have to hear one more argument this day, I think I shall lose my mind."

Elhael chuckled and then stopped walking, turning to face the queen.

"Then I fear for your sanity, my queen," his dark-blue eyes danced with mirth. "For that is all councilors do."

Lanthir grinned at his now-retreating form, for they had reached his destination. Among the troubles within the kingdom, at least Lanthir and Thranduil had advisors they could count on.

The shadow that laid over the forest in the south had grown thicker, suffocating their joyful elven inhabitants. The elves of Greenwood were now calling their home _Mirkwood._ They had been doing so for far too long, it seemed.

Orcs and spiders took up residence in their beloved trees, driving the elves back further each year, making peace and safety a distant memory. King Thranduil spent his days planning new strategies to fight the shadow, agonizing over having to send his children out on patrols _._

Calaeron and Faervere, the oldest princes, were captains in the king's army. The shadow around Mirkwood had grown denser than ever before, slowly suffocating the light. The patrols throughout the forest fought back packs of orcs and took down spider's nests, though the shadow pressed on. It seemed that for every foul creature they slew, two more rose in its place.

Lanthir often worried that one day, one of her children wouldn't come home. She was endlessly grateful that her youngest, Legolas, was still an elfling, and she wouldn't need to fear for his safety for many years to come.

" _Naneth!"_

The queen was pulled from her musings by the voice of her oldest child, the Crown Prince Calaeron, who had just emerged from the chamber across from the one Elhael had entered. Lanthir smiled broadly, pleased to see his face. Her darker blue eyes locked onto his lighter ones and she stepped into a quick hug before they both began walking down the palace halls.

Calaeron had returned from a long and stressful patrol nearly two weeks ago. It was the longest the crown prince had spent in the palace in more than a year. Unfortunately, he'd also been dragged into dull council meetings. She could see the frustration written all over his young face, so much like Thranduil's it made her heart warm every time she saw him.

"Is it just me, or have all of our councilors lost their minds?"

Lanthir let out a shocked, amused laugh.

"No, _ion nin,_ it is not just you."

Calaeron shook his head and placed his mother's arm in his own, gently guiding her down the hall. It was not often they were able to spend time alone in each other's company.

They approached the courtyard just in time to hear the hoof beats of an approaching patrol. She couldn't help the anticipation that flooded her, wondering just which of her loved ones were finally returning.

Faervere was still on patrol and had been for many weeks. He and Calaeron often traded turns in the palace. They were almost never home at the same time.

The patrol approached, led by Captain Thallion. Just the sight of the black-haired elf eased Lanthir's worry over the elf she had raised as a son.

Thallion was one of the Avari and had lived in Mirkwood for most of his life, though Avari typically lived in the forest and were known as "wild elves." The elf's family had been murdered by orcs before Thallion had come of age.

Thallion was taken in by King Thranduil himself, through much prodding from the queen, after the king's patrol had found him wounded and unconscious amongst his dead kin. He was nursed back to health and became a member of the royal family, pledging to protect the very family which had saved him as a child.

It had taken Thallion many years to heal from the loss of his Avarin family, but he had grown close to the king's children. The Crown Prince, Calaeron, grew to love him as a younger brother and Thallion became an instant older brother to Prince Faervere when he was born.

But it was Legolas whom he adored most, for he reminded the Avar of the little brother he'd lost. His own brother, Pellion, had been little more than an infant at the time of his death. There had been something in Legolas' eyes which drew Thallion to him, capturing his heart the moment he laid eyes on the newborn.

It was something that Legolas had never really been told, though the elfling was observant enough to know that something terrible had happened to his older brother.

Finally, the patrol entered the courtyard, allowing Lanthir and Calaeron a closer look at their kin.

The entire group looked beyond exhausted, but none more than their leader. It was obvious that Thallion had sacrificed his own precious rest for his elves' comfort. They listened to the dark-haired elf order his warriors home to their families, promising "punishment" if they did not rest.

Judging by the worn-out smiles on their faces, they sensed no malice in his words.

"Do you plan on heeding your own advice, _Muindor nin?_ "

Calaeron had left the queen's side and stood, arms crossed, just in front of Thallion's horse. His eyes searched the other elf, looking for injuries and sighing in relief at seeing none. The elf looked exhausted, but appeared to be uninjured for once.

Thallion disembarked his steed and clasped arms with Calaeron, chuckling at the crown prince's words.

"Once I have seen to my wounded, _Your Highness_ ," he teased, his voice filled with weariness but his eyes flashing with amusement. "I will do so."

Thallion then turned and, upon seeing Lanthir, bowed. She stepped forward and laid a hand against his dirty cheek.

"It is good to see you unhurt, _ion nin_ ," she smiled. "But I do agree with your brother. You need rest. We will see to your wounded, I'm sure they will understand."

Thallion sighed, recognizing defeat when he saw it. He nodded in acceptance, and led his horse over to a stable hand.

True to her word, Lanthir and Calaeron ensured the few wounded elves in Thallion's company were cared for. In the queen's opinion, it was a far nobler task than attending council sessions all day.

* * *

Queen Lanthir struggled to pull a tunic over her squirming elfling, laughing at the small child's ceaseless wriggling. His golden hair was mussed and his eyes were watering from each tiny peal of laughter as his mother tried again, unsuccessfully, to grab a small arm to slide into the sleeve.

" _Nana!_ I want to see my Thall!"

Legolas had been protesting his bedtime for the last hour, intent on finding his best friend and adopted brother, despite each yawn he tried to hide behind his little hands.

"He has only just returned from patrol, _Tithen Las,_ " she shook her head when the elfling's arm slipped back out of the sleeve she had just managed to pull it through. "He is very sleepy and needs some rest. You can see him in the morning."

Another monstrous yawn erupted from the bright, joyful face of the youngest prince, warming the queen's heart.

"And it seems, _ion nin,_ that you need some rest, too."

Legolas grumbled sleepily, finally allowing his mother to dress him for bed. She smoothed over his wild golden locks and gently kissed his forehead, tucking him into the warm blankets. It took only moments for his bright blue eyes to glaze over with elven sleep, and Lanthir could only imagine what wonders the child dreamed about.

She closed the door to his bedroom, stepping into her adjoining chambers.

"Has he finally settled down, my queen?"

King Thranduil was sitting at the small desk in the corner of their room, poring over documents that he should have left hours ago. It had been centuries since Thranduil last had to work into the late hours of the night.

"Thallion returned from his patrol today," Lanthir had been glad to see her adopted son earlier that day. "I'm pleased both Thallion and Calaeron are home safe, as is Legolas, but I'll rest easier once I have Faervere in my arms again."

Though Thranduil knew their training had been thorough—all three of them were some of the most skilled warriors in Mirkwood—the father still worried each time he watched them leave the safety of the palace. King Thranduil wanted peace for his children, but that was not to be.

Lanthir's bright blue eyes rested on the drooping shoulders of her husband, a sad smile sliding into place. Of everyone in the palace, Thranduil worked the hardest. The queen missed the days when he smiled more and worked less.

She placed her hands on his tense shoulders and tried to work the tension out of them, resting her forehead atop his golden hair. She felt more than saw him drop his quill, lowering his head ever slightly.

Lanthir wrapped her arms around him and set her chin on his shoulder.

"Come to bed, my dear," she whispered, hoping to pull him away from his work and for him to actually _rest_ for once.

"I'll be there shortly, love," he replied as he bent over his papers once more. She kissed his neck softly before making her way to bed.

Thranduil continued his work through the night.

* * *

Tiny lungs huffed as short legs propelled a giggling, blond-haired blur down the brightly-lit halls of the palace. Sunlight streamed in through floor-length windows and archways, illuminating the child's golden hair as it whipped behind him. He ran so quickly that none who saw him would have been able to catch him, such was his enthusiasm.

His giggles increased with the speed of his run, echoing through the halls. It was a new morning in Mirkwood, the start of what promised to be a day full of adventure and excitement for the little elfling. From the moment he'd woke in his chambers, Legolas was bursting with joy.

The few guards who saw the elfling shook their heads in fond amusement. Legolas was the youngest elf in the palace, as well as the only elfling. He was barely more than 15 years old, roughly around the size of a human six-year-old. His bright, loving nature brought joy to the inhabitants of the palace in a time where only darkness prevailed.

Somehow, the royal family had been able to keep the gloom away from their youngest prince. Legolas was barely aware that anything was wrong, though he was more observant than he let on. The child knew that his family was stressed, but that in no way diminished the elfling's spirit.

Legolas had been looking forward to this particular day for a week, barely able to focus on his lessons for the happiness that awaited. His own excitement was an unexpected distraction for the occupants of the palace. He told all who would listen, including the guards, his tutors, and anyone else who was near. It was the day his _Naneth_ promised to take him on a walk through the forest.

Legolas loved the trees just as much as his mother did, but he was not allowed outside of the palace on his own. But somehow, his _Nana_ had decided that a walk would be just what the elfling needed. He could hardly contain his excitement from the moment she made her promise. Lanthir knew that her youngest son was lonely and bored, and so she planned an entire day to spend with him, away from the palace, the councilors, and all others who would seek to bother her.

Lanthir had lately been so busy with her duties in the court that she had spent far too little time with her youngest. The King made what effort he could to spend a little time with his son each day, but he had struggled to find enough hours in the day.

Calaeron and Faervere longed to spend more time with their bright, loving little brother. It had been long since they'd been able to devote their attention to Legolas. They were all busy with other things, too caught up in the struggles of the kingdom to nurture the adventurous spirit of the youngest prince. Thallion had also made every effort he could to spend time with his little brother too, but was home even less often than the other princes.

The three elves Legolas adored most were often gone for weeks at a time, and were weary or wounded whenever they _were_ in the palace. He was lonely. There were few elflings in Mirkwood for him to play with.

His birth had been a surprise to the ailing kingdom. Greenwood the Great had darkened. Despite the darkness, Legolas remained the kind, joyful child he was. Sprinting through the palace was still safe for him, and not a single soul could bear to stop him.

Legolas peered into a small, poorly-lit study along his run through the palace, wondering if his brother was in it. Lanthir told Legolas that Thallion had returned to the palace the night before and the older elf was often found in quiet places when he wasn't on patrol, but the little elfling was growing impatient the longer it took to find him. Thallion had rested enough, hadn't he?

He wanted to tell Thallion about what he and his _Nana_ were going to do. He hadn't been able to tell him yet. It had been nearly three weeks since Thallion was in the palace last. The elfling was bursting with pent-up energy and excitement as he searched through the palace to find "his" Thall. Today was to be a fun day and Thallion _needed_ to hear about it!

"Thall?" He whispered into the study while squinting his blue eyes to peer deep into the room, looking for the dark-haired elf. When his search yielded nothing, the child huffed and ran off once more.

There!

Just down the hall was a slender, dark-haired figure. Though the _ellon's_ back was turned, Legolas knew he recognized the ebony braids and broad shoulders. It _had_ to be Thallion!

Legolas screeched in excitement as he sprinted toward the figure and launched himself at the unsuspecting elf.

" _Penneth!"_ Thallion laughed as he turned at the sound and barely managed to catch the small ball of energy hurtling toward him. He settled the elfling against his hip, brushing fine strands of blond hair away from Legolas' face with one large hand and chuckling at the bright, excited blue eyes that were revealed beneath. "What has you so happy, little one?"

Legolas smiled broadly, wriggling in his big brother's arms with pure happiness. Thallion couldn't help but to smile back at the little prince who had entirely captured his heart.

"I get to go into the for'st! Me and _Nana_ are going on a walk!"

The elfling continued to squirm in Thallion's arms, earning another chuckle from the older elf. The thought of the Queen and her son in the darkening forest placed a cold fear deep into his stomach, though he made sure not to show it to the very observant Legolas.

Thallion's demeanor was always different around Legolas, much more carefree and at-ease. He adored the boy and made every effort to dote on him whenever the opportunity arose.

" _Nana_ and I, _Tithen Las,"_ Queen Lanthir said as she appeared from around the corner, her light-brown hair glowing in the bright light of the hallway. At the sight of his mother, Legolas jumped out of Thallion's arms with a giggle and ran into hers.

She placed a kiss against her son's golden hair before she set him back down.

"I believe you have yet to eat your breakfast, _ion nin,"_ she grinned at the affronted expression on Legolas' face. "Go, child, and then we will begin our walk."

The squeal of excitement that escaped the elfling brought smiles to both of the adult's faces. Legolas took off down the hall toward the royal quarters and the Queen couldn't help the laugh from escaping her as she watched her son. Having such a bright soul in these dark times was a blessing from the Valar.

She then turned to the other elf standing just a foot from her.

"To have that much energy would be a gift."

Thallion shook his head and laughed in agreement, the much lower timbre of his voice mixing with the high, clear voice of the Queen.

" _Ai,_ it would."

"You sound so tired, _Penneth,"_ the Queen frowned at the dark smudges beneath Thallion's gray eyes and the too-pale pallor of his skin. He must not have rested enough, she thought. "You, Calaeron, and Faervere spend far too much time on patrols these days."

"These are dark times, My Lady."

"Yes, I'm afraid the shadow is getting even stronger."

Thallion nodded, his shoulders slumping ever slightly. "Are you sure it is safe for you and Legolas to be in the forest today? Perhaps I should accompany you."

Lanthir's bright blue eyes softened as they met the worried gaze of the elf who had become a son to her.

"We will be safe, _Ion nin,_ as long as we do not stray from the path." It hurt her deeply to know that her beloved forest was no longer as safe as the days of old. It hurt even more to watch her children ride off into battle and return, weak and wounded, only for them to turn around and leave once more. "I don't plan to take Legolas far. Besides, you have only just returned to the palace. You need your rest."

She took one of his hands in hers and squeezed it reassuringly, smiling brightly at her son.

"I won't be far," he promised. Already, Thallion was planning to stay close to the forest edge, intending to be close enough to protect them should they need it. He couldn't explain the nagging feeling at the back of his mind, but he knew better than to ignore it.

"I know."

Lanthir expected nothing less from him. He had always been protective of the royal family, going so far as to take an arrow meant for Calaeron years ago during a patrol which had been ill-fated from the start.

"I should go find my elfling," the seriousness disappeared from her eyes. "He may tear this palace apart if I make him wait much longer."

Thallion smiled, though it did not reach his eyes, for the worried knot in his gut grew ever larger.

* * *

Author's Note:

I do take your reviews/suggestions into consideration and update accordingly. Thanks!

 **-FiTS**


	2. Chapter 2

Thallion arrived at his chambers later that morning to retrieve his sword. Despite the quietness of that part of the palace, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. He'd barely rested the night before, but he knew he could definitely not rest now.

The uneasiness in his gut had remained, refusing to be ignored. Though he'd been told by the queen herself that all would be well, he could not relax. He had promised to be near, and so he would be.

Once he'd picked up his sword and strapped it to his waist, he calmly made his way down the corridors toward one of the many palace exits. Thallion was only feet away from the door when he heard a familiar shout.

"Thallion, wait there!"

He turned and watched as the crown prince, Calaeron, jogged toward him. The older elf smiled at his younger brother, his light blue eyes resting on Thallion's gray.

"Where are you headed?" He pointed, frowning, to the Avar's sword resting in its sheath at his side. "We are free today, _Muindor_. Surely you need more rest?"

The unbridled concern on Calaeron's face made him look so much like King Thranduil that Thallion had to fight to hold in a smirk, despite the disquiet he was feeling.

Thallion often teased his brother for his striking resemblance to the King.

Calaeron and Legolas both inherited their father's white-gold hair. But while Legolas resembled Lanthir in face, eyes, and mannerism, Calaeron was the spitting image of the King. Faervere was more of a combination, with his mother's brown hair and his father's light blue eyes.

"There is nothing wrong, is there?"

Thallion smiled reassuringly at his older brother, trying not to let the worry worm its way out of his gut and onto his features. It had always been difficult for Thallion to hide much of anything from Calaeron.

" _Naneth_ is taking Legolas into the forest today and I'm merely feeling uneasy about it. She asked me not to accompany them, though I told her that I would be close should she need me."

Calaeron nodded in understanding. Thallion tended to be rather protective of the royal family, and with good reason. He'd saved Calaeron's life on more than one occasion, and Faervere owed his life to his older brother, as well.

His worry was never for naught and should never be taken lightly. His instincts had proven useful in the past.

"All will be well, Thall. But if you feel you should be near, then please do," the prince rested a hand on Thallion's shoulder as he smiled softly. "And do send word if you need aid. I can have a patrol on stand-by."

Thallion shook his head.

"I am sure it won't come to that, _Muindor_ ," he smiled back in reply. "But I will send for help should I need it."

Calaeron nodded seriously before the two parted. The prince turned back the way he came, most-likely to sit in on yet another council session, while Thallion pushed open the palace doors and stepped outside.

It was a beautiful day, full of sunshine and chattering birds. The slightest of breezes tickled his pale cheeks. It was the perfect day for a walk, maybe all would be well after all.

He strolled away from the palace and beyond the walls, coming to rest at the very edge of the forest. Thallion could see the path the queen and prince had set out on only minutes earlier. It was not shadowed, and looked no more deadly than the paths through the palace grounds.

" _I need your assistance,_ Mellon. _"_

He leaned against a young fir tree, offering direct contact to the tree for its own comfort. Being an Avar, he had much the same connection to the trees as the Wood Elves, easily able to converse with them as he pleased.

" _Yes? Yes! How can I help?"_

The tree was eager and far happier than those deeper in the forest, where the shadow had crept up and leeched into their roots.

" _Queen Lanthir and Prince Legolas are along this path,"_ he sighed. _"Would you ask your friends to keep watch over them and send warning if they encounter any danger?"_

" _Yes! The path has grown dark,"_ the tree suddenly seemed older than its years. _"I will ask and we will gladly watch them."_

Thallion thanked the tree and then settled in the grass beneath it, closing his eyes and resting his back against its trunk. He could feel its pride and happiness at having been chosen for such a simple task.

All Thallion could do now was wait and hope that all would be well.

* * *

"It waved at me, _Nana!_ "

A small hand pointed at the sparrow that now flew over the heads of Queen Lanthir and Prince Legolas. He looked back at his mother and beamed, earning a loving smile in return. Nothing made the queen more pleased than the unending delight of her little elfling. Just his smile seemed to erase the sadness from her heart.

"It did, _Penneth,_ it was happy to see you."

The elfling ran around touching flowers and giggling at birds. Lanthir loved the pure joy coming from her son, as it nearly made her forget about the darkness choking her forest.

She looked up to see Legolas pressing his hands against an old oak tree, scrunching his face in concentration.

"When will I hear the trees, _Nana?"_

Adult wood elves could converse easily with trees, bearing a close link with the nature around them. It was a gift from the Valar that was deeply cherished. It took many centuries to master the skill, and elves Legolas' age simply were not old enough to understand the trees.

For Legolas, the language of trees was a gentle mutter, undefined and incoherent to young ears. The prince had long been jealous of older elves' ability to speak to the trees and had begged all who would listen to teach him, much to their amusement.

"Soon enough, little one."

It was clear that her answer wasn't good enough for the elfling when he pouted with impatience.

"What does this one say?"

Lanthir smiled and approached her son, resting her hand over his against the old oak so she could listen closer to its quiet voice.

" _Ahh,"_ the oak sighed. " _Tithen Lanthir, my little waterfall, it has been so long! And the young Greenleaf! It is so good to see you. You do not visit as you once did. Shame!"_

Legolas giggled at the excited rumbling coming from the tree, and he longed to know what it was saying.

" _I am sorry, old friend,"_ she answered the oak first. _"The forest has grown dark, it is no longer safe."_

She didn't have to say anything more to the tree, for she knew he would understand. His roots grew deep, remembering the light of Greenwood the Great before the shadows descended upon it.

"He is happy to see us, _ion nin,_ " she looked into Legolas' happy face. "He hopes we'll visit again and he can't wait until you're old enough to speak with him."

Legolas beamed and then hugged the tree as tightly as his little arms could accomplish, not aware of the half-truth his mother gave him.

Lanthir looked around at her forest, trying to picture the way the sun used to filter through the trees and rest on large, blooming flowers. Or how the birds would wait on branches and speak to all who would pass. She could hardly remember the peace that used to dwell in the forest, like it had when she was much younger.

It had been many centuries since the forest was a true, vibrant green. Leaves grew thinner now, and the trees were becoming tired and sad. Trees like the lonely Old Oak, who had once been able to stretch his limbs out wide and soak up the rays. When Lanthir was an elfling, the Oak had been healthier, and so had the rest of the forest.

Now, the forest was quiet and dark. To children like Legolas, it was lively. For they had never seen it as it once was.

And they probably never would.

Lanthir turned to Legolas to tell him they would need to be heading back, only for her to realize she couldn't see him. Where had he gone?

"Legolas?"

The Queen's heart began beating faster as different scenarios began running through her mind. Orcs. Spiders. Wolves and wargs. Sink holes large enough to swallow a child.

He was nowhere to be found.

Lanthir pressed her hand against the Old Oak's rough bark.

" _Have you seen my son?"_

She was growing more frantic with each passing second.

" _Little Greenleaf was distracted,"_ the tree answered. If it had a face, it would be frowning. _"He has wandered off the path, toward the south. You cannot go by yourself, it is too dangerous."_

Her heart nearly stuttered to a stop. It was always the south. The largest orc packs were to the south, as were the thicker spider's nests. It was in the south that Calaeron had nearly been killed on patrol and where Thallion had paid the price and was almost lost to them forever. It was the south which had claimed many seasoned warriors.

And now, her little elfling was headed south.

" _Ai, Elbereth."_

* * *

Gray eyes snapped open at the first shout from the trees. Something was wrong, and every tree was beginning to call out in concern.

" _Dark one!"_ The young fir tree spoke, after word had spread through the forest _. "The little Greenleaf has strayed from the path. Waterfall can't find him!"_

The tree swayed as though there were a strong breeze. Thallion felt his heart thump furiously in worry. If Legolas had stepped off the path, where had he gone? And was the Queen safe?

" _Can the trees see him?"_

" _Yes, but he is not safe. The lady cannot follow him, you must hurry!"_

" _Make sure word gets to Prince Calaeron!"_

With that, he began running down the path as quickly as his long legs could take him. Branches lifted above his head and roots ducked away from his feet. The Queen and her son hadn't gone too deep into the forest, and he would reach them soon.

He burst through the trees right where the old oak lived. Thallion was breathing heavily and had to take a moment to close his eyes and listen to the trees. Where should he go next?

" _Just there,"_ the old oak swayed to one side, drawing Thallion's attention to the trampled plants left behind by a frantic mother. The elf quickly thanked the tree and ran off the path, following the broken twigs and stepped-on leaves. The queen was usually too graceful to ever leave a trail, but fear could do many things to an elf.

It was only moments later that he spotted the queen. Her dark hair had come loose from its long plait and her light blue gown was ripped at the bottom. She was tearing through the forest in a state of pure fear, all semblance of ration leaving her.

"Thallion! He is heading south, we must find him before it's too late!"

She ran forward and grabbed both his forearms. He could feel her trembling, trying to hold her composure.

"You must go for help, my queen," Thallion sighed. He knew Lanthir would not likely take this well. "This forest is too dangerous for you."

"I cannot leave my child, Thallion!"

The queen's fear was so thick, the Avar could have parted it with his sword. He did not intend to diminish Lanthir's worry, but he knew in his heart that he was not enough to protect both the queen and the youngest prince, and Thallion could not bear to lose another family member.

"My Lady, it is too dangerous."

Anger blazed in her eyes, wrathful and beautiful all at once, despite the firmness of Thallion's tone. She was a warrior when any of her children were threatened, but that would not help the situation.

" _Naneth!_ "

He let the word hang in the air long enough for it to sink in and gain her attention. He didn't always address her in such a way, so it was enough to set her mind back into the here and now, right where he needed her.

"Please," he continued, now that he knew she would listen. "I cannot protect both of you from the dangers of this forest. Go for help, _Naneth_. Calaeron is not far, he will send a patrol."

Finally, Lanthir saw the logic in his reasoning and the pain in his dark gray eyes. Though she was afraid, she would trust him to save her child. As long as he could trust _her_ to bring them aid.

"May the Valar be with you, _Penneth,"_ she whispered. "With both of you."

He could only nod in return as he watched her turn and flee toward the palace and the help that awaited, despite what every one of her instincts were probably telling her. Thallion then closed his eyes and again focused on the trees, listening to their frantic voices.

" _Forward,"_ one begged.

" _Not far now,"_ another explained.

He strained his ears, trying to focus on individual trees instead of the cacophony of their combined voices.

" _Danger,"_ more than one warned.

He shook his head, shifting his focus from the trees to the surrounding forest, trying to listen to the nature itself to gain further clues. Children were not as silent as their adult counterparts, they did not possess the usual stealth of older elves and so were easier to track.

Sure enough, he heard the rustling of small feet not too far from his location. Though he was relieved that he knew where Legolas was, the foreboding knot in his gut twisted viciously the closer he got to the child.

" _Be swift!"_

Thallion could not drown out every tree as they shouted at him to quicken his pace and he felt his heartbeat race as he tried to ignore everything around him. Suddenly, he realized he could no longer hear the small rustling that had moments ago been his guide to the elfling. Panic raced through his veins and he clamped down on it, refusing to let it rule his senses.

Thallion's ears picked up a faint sniffling that would have gone unnoticed by any other creature but an elf. He crouched low and continued toward the noise, hoping that it would be Legolas just past the trees before him.

He emerged from the green to see the back of the small elfling's tunic and he sighed in relief. Thallion deliberately let his foot crunch against the leaves on the forest floor so as not to surprise the child.

 _"_ _Nana?_ _"_

Thallion's heart constricted at the fear and uncertainty in the small child's voice as the little one turned and bright blue eyes met worried gray.

"Thall!"

His stomach dropped through his feet as his eyes rested not on the tear-stained cheeks of the lost elfling, but on the thick, white spider web weaved through the tree above the child's head. Legolas had not noticed, that much Thallion could tell.

 _Ai Elbereth,_ the child had stumbled upon a nest and not even realized the danger he was in. He was too young to truly understand the horrified, fear-laden shrieking of the trees around him. To Legolas, the trees simply sounded overly restless.

Thallion could scarcely ignore their shouts.

"Legolas, _Penneth_ , come this way."

He held out his arms, even as his hand twitched toward the sword at his side. He would not frighten the child further by drawing it, but he would be poised and ready should he need it.

Suddenly, without warning, the trees were silenced. The gnawing fear in the center of Thallion's body washed over him—cutting off all pretense of calmness as he immediately drew his sword and threw himself at the elfling.

Somehow, he'd acted just in time. As his left hand closed over Legolas' wrist and pulled him behind his bigger frame, one of the largest Great Spiders Thallion had ever seen flew out from the trees.

Seeing the determined elf draw his sword had frightened Legolas, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the spider. Never had he seen one of the much-feared Spiders of Mirkwood—he'd only ever encountered the small house spiders that occasionally crawled on the palace walls and across the floors.

Legolas now decided that he would _never_ be afraid of a house spider again. They were cute and cuddly compared to what Thallion held his sword against.

It was larger than a full-grown elf, with hundreds of menacingly glittering eyes focusing on the easy prey cowering behind Thallion. Its legs were longer than Legolas was tall and it hissed in anger at the interruption.

"Stay behind me, Legolas," Thallion drew himself to his full height and stood before the creature, brandishing his sword with confidence, despite the fear that coursed through his veins. What if there was more than one spider? Could the trees warn him in time?

He knew it would be a challenge in speed when faced with a spider twice his size. He would be of no use to Legolas if he couldn't best the spider before any others showed up. Thallion only had one chance. He couldn't fail, for it was not just his life in the balance.

Thallion brought the long elven blade in front of his lithe body and struck quickly against the spider's attack. He was a sight to see as he drew on centuries of training in Mirkwood's army. He used his speed to hold back the spider, hoping that Legolas would stay far enough behind him for safety, but close enough for protection from any other spiders that had yet to make an appearance.

The spider's main focus was still on the tiny elfling behind his back, despite Thallion's defensive strikes at its large underbelly and long, furry legs. It threw its weight toward Legolas, trying to launch itself over Thallion to get to Legolas.

It was growing angry that it could not have its prey, and Thallion was growing tired from fending off the pursuit. Thallion knew he would have to strike offensively if he wanted to kill the spider and end the threat.

"Thall!"

He ignored the frightened elfling behind him, knowing there was still only one spider. He couldn't afford to lose his focus for even a moment.

Thallion saw an opening when the spider reared up with its front legs, preparing its stinger for its prey. He thrust his sword into the exposed underbelly of the creature, wincing at the sharp screech of pain it made.

He had only seconds to react, so he dropped his sword and turned, wrapping his long arms around Legolas and shielding the elfling with his own body as the dying spider sunk its stinger into his flesh and drove him to his knees.

Agony weaved through his bones, lighting up every nerve in his body like lightning in the night sky as it laid a demanding grip on him. His lungs clenched in painful spasms and his muscles felt as though they would fray at the slightest movement.

But he fought on.

His dark gray eyes rested on the frightened pale face in front of him, even as his vision dangerously wavered toward the blackness threatening its edges. The poisoned wound in his left shoulder throbbed with tendrils of white-hot pain. The little elfling trembling against him was his top priority, no matter the cost to himself.

He would save Legolas, even if he died trying.

Legolas was gripping Thallion's tunic tightly in two little fists, letting out small whimpers of fear. It took the older elf several moments to fight through the pain that was blurring everything around him.

At last, Thallion got control of his senses.

"Legolas, _Penneth,_ are you okay?"

Thallion's voice sounded strained and weak, even to his own ears, but he chose to ignore it.

Legolas nodded against his brother's chest, too frightened to speak. Thallion squeezed the child gently, muttering words of comfort in Avarin, before carefully pulling the elfling's hands away from his tunic.

"We must go now, Legolas," he began to stand. "The forest is not safe."

He was discouraged by how hard it was to get himself upright, but he fought through his pain. The patrol would have gathered by now. It was only a matter of time before Calaeron and his troops were on their way.

It normally didn't take long for spider venom to induce unconsciousness and drop a full-grown elf, but he fought to keep himself awake, fearing the arrival of more spiders. He couldn't afford much hesitation. The window of peace would only last so long before it was shattered.

Thallion took a few jarring, pain-filled steps to reassure himself that he could remain standing long enough to bring the young prince to safety.

He began to slowly lead Legolas closer to the lost path, finding it harder to draw a comfortable breath. The small elfling was clearly terrified and shaken, but seemed to understand that his brother was hurt and that he must listen to everything Thallion commanded in order to make things easier.

They made it to the path near the Old Oak when Thallion's knees gave out the first time.

He gasped in pain as his knees crashed to the forest floor. He could feel the hot wetness of his blood soaking through not just the back of his tunic, but the front as well. The spider's stinger must have passed straight through the elf and pierced both sides.

"Thall?"

Legolas sniffled, his fingers gripping tightly onto Thallion's right arm.

Thallion squeezed his eyes shut, focusing intently on the rapid, fearful breathing of the elfling beside him. This was all for Legolas, he reminded himself, breathing through waves of agony. He was fighting every moment for Legolas and he would _not_ fail him.

" _You must stand, Dark One,"_ the Oak encouraged. _"Greenleaf needs you."_

"Yes," Thallion muttered under his breath, forcing himself to his feet and dragging an astonished Legolas—whose fingers were still tightly gripping his arm—alongside him.

He placed each foot in front of the last, begging his body to cooperate.

The trees slid their roots out of the way, seemingly aware of the fact that the wounded elf could not pay enough attention to his own feet. Legolas continued to sniffle, afraid of every noise around him.

They made it a little further down the path. Legolas kept darting his wide eyes all around, still gripped by fear and terrified of seeing another spider.

"It will be all right, _Tithen Muindor,"_ Thallion's voice was very weak, but he knew Legolas needed the comfort. "Calaeron is on his way."

Thallion stumbled once more and was on the ground again before he even realized he was falling. Legolas cried out in surprise, burying his face into Thallion's right shoulder and pushing his small body against his brother's in the desperate hope of keeping him upright.

Thallion wavered, hardly able to recognize his own surroundings, much less remain conscious. The pain was great, stealing his breath and causing darkness to creep into the edges of his vision.

"Please, Thall," Legolas begged. "Please, I'm scared."

It was Legolas' voice that Thallion clung to, giving him a focal point. He would _not_ fail another brother. Not like he'd failed Pellion so long ago. Legolas had many great things ahead of him, Thallion had always known so. He had to make sure the elfling reached his destiny, whatever that may be.

He wasn't sure how he'd managed it, but Thallion found himself on his feet once again.

* * *

-FiTS


	3. Chapter 3

"They can't be much further."

The light blue eyes of the crown prince searched the forest, his sharp ears listening closely for any sign of his brothers. Calaeron had felt a physical weight on his chest, suffocating his breath from the moment the trees began calling for help. By the time he'd hastily rounded up a patrol, Lanthir had emerged from the trees more frantic than Calaeron had ever seen her.

Raw fear shone in the fierce Elvenqueen's eyes, stopping Calaeron's heart for the briefest of moments.

He had used every tactic he'd learned in his long years as a captain of Mirkwood's forces to reach the logical core of his fear -stricken mother. He'd pointed out that, in her frightened state, she would only slow them down. When he also mentioned that the king would need to be notified—it was best he was told by his wife and not a misinformed adviser—Lanthir had finally accepted that she could not join the search. Calaeron knew his _Naneth_ would not rest until she had her children in her arms again. Thallion included.

"We will find them, my prince," Glandor, his second-in-command, assured in his level voice. The _ellon_ was always more positive and optimistic than his Captain, something Calaeron held in high regard. He had chosen the swiftest riders from both his and Thallion's warriors, knowing that Thallion's troops wouldn't be content to merely sit back and wait for their Captain to be rescued.

Despite their exhaustion, Thallion's elves stepped up the moment they heard their Captain was in trouble.

"Glandor is right, my lord," Caranel, one of Thallion's most-trusted warriors, added. Her voice was filled with confidence. "Thallion would never let anything happen to Legolas."

A truer statement had never been spoken and it filled Calaeron's chest with hope.

The patrol rode on, hoping to come across the two elves sooner rather than later. There was no telling just _what_ they'd find, and Calaeron felt the urgency deep within his bones as they continued their search.

* * *

Thallion had fallen for a third time and only through sheer force of will had he found his feet again. He felt as though they'd disappeared below him, prompting almost a compulsive urge for him to look down and reassure himself that they still existed.

Every nerve was alight with fire and all he could truly be sure of was the pain and fatigue from the poison coursing through his slender body, tearing it apart from the inside out.

Legolas had since fallen silent, observing each feeble step with wide eyes. Legolas' little hands shook and his small body flinched whenever it looked as though Thallion had stepped his last. Anxiety overtook the elfling and he understood that there would be a point when Thallion wouldn't rise again.

He may have been an elfling, but he was old enough to see that the Avar's wound was grave.

"We will be home soon, _Penneth,_ " Thallion's voice was just above a whisper, so low that Legolas had to strain his young ears just to catch it. The trees desperately leaned their branches toward the weakening elf, hoping to somehow catch him the next time he faltered.

Up ahead, the sound of hoof beats rang through the forest. Legolas could not hear it, but Thallion's matured ears picked up their sound. A sudden burst of energy flowed through the elf's poison-filled body and spurred him on. He could do this.

If he could get Legolas to Calaeron, he could succeed in saving the elfling. He counted every step, begging the Valar for just one more. One more chance. One more breath.

One more step.

Finally, he saw the patrol ahead and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. It seemed as though everything within him collapsed, like a tree felled by a storm. Thallion felt his legs give out one last time, the time that Legolas had been fearing would arrive. Thallion knew it was okay to let go.

Legolas was safe.

His eyes slipped closed, and he didn't fight them as his body crumpled to the forest floor. Legolas grabbed Thallion's right arm, desperate to pull him to his feet, despite the safety of the patrol.

Calaeron gasped when he spotted the collapsed figure of his younger brother and the anguished, terrified face of the elfling. All semblance of decorum left him and he was no longer the elegant, regal prince.

The worried elf was off his horse the moment he laid eyes on his two brothers, not even allowing his faithful steed to stop before he was running as fast as his legs could carry him. He reached their side in an instant and had a sobbing elfling in his arms within seconds. Calaeron could barely make out Legolas' words through the thick tears and trembling of his tiny body.

Calaeron understood 'spider' and that was all it took to set his heart racing even faster than he thought was possible. He hushed the little prince and held him tighter, rocking him back and forth. Calaeron felt his heart pound with relief as well as dread as he ran his larger hands over the elfling's back to comfort him.

He then suddenly held the child at arm's length, his breath stilling at the sight of the blood staining the elfling's tunic. It was even clinging to his hair, Calaeron noted. The alarmed brother ran his hands along Legolas' arms, pulling at his tunic and inspecting him for wounds.

Once he'd discerned that the child was physically unharmed, he resumed the rocking motions and held Legolas as he cried even more violently than before. The child's body trembled with fear and anxiety.

"It is all right now, _Penneth._ You're safe, nothing can hurt you anymore."

The rest of the patrol had reached their side and both Caranel and Glandor slid off of their horses to kneel beside them amongst the dirt and leaves.

"Is Legolas well?" Caranel looked over the elfling with concern, even as she helped Glandor turn over her captain's unmoving body with gentle hands. The respect in her eyes was evident, warring with the anxiety she felt at her commander's plight.

"He's unharmed," the prince replied, his eyes fixed on the large bloodstain that spread like wildfire across both the front and back of Thallion's ruined tunic. "Legolas mentioned a spider—that looks like a sting."

They could smell the dreadful scent of already-rotting flesh caused by the thick venom and they could only hope that it was not too late for him. How he'd managed to remain on his feet as long as he had was a mystery, and they prayed to the Valar that the same strength would carry him through this ordeal.

As Caranel laid Thallion on his back, the wounded elf's eyes flickered open for a moment and met Calaeron's distressed gaze.

"Hmm," he mumbled, not truly conscious at all. "I saved Pellion."

Those three words brought tears to Calaeron's eyes, though it brought confusion to the rest of the patrol. He didn't explain his brother's words, for he knew the other elves would blame them on delirium.

They didn't need to know.

"Let's get them back to the palace," Calaeron ordered, gathering the still-sobbing elfling into his arms.

Glandor helped Caranel lift Thallion onto the _elleth's_ horse, settling herself on the saddle behind him and holding his already-feverish body against her chest.

Legolas had locked his small arms around the crown prince's neck and buried his tear-stained face there, making it easy for Calaeron to mount his own horse and turn them toward the palace.

He didn't need to impress upon the patrol the importance of haste, for they understood that time was of the essence. It was crackling through the air just as physically as lightning in a rainstorm.

Legolas' sobs had subsided to small whimpers and his arms were no longer in a death grip around Calaeron's neck, though the Crown Prince didn't relinquish his hold on the precious cargo. It seemed that the child had fallen asleep against his chest, exhausted from the events that had taken place.

Calaeron stared tenderly down at the blond head nestled at his neck, and he wrapped his arms tighter around the elfling. He thanked every higher force that existed for the safe return of his brother. He could only hope for the same good fortune where Thallion was concerned.

They reached the palace a short time later, surprised by the anxious environment that awaited them. The entire courtyard was alive with elves, many of them simply standing and staring eagerly at the gates—awaiting the safe return of two beloved members of their kingdom.

When the patrol entered the crowded courtyard, Calaeron was shocked to see not only the queen waiting for them, but King Thranduil, too. His steed recognized the King and made her way to his side, stopping just in front of the Elvenking's restless form. Calaeron carefully slid off the horse, holding Legolas close to his body.

The queen gasped at the sight of her sleeping elfling in Calaeron's arms, no doubt seeing the splatters of Thallion's blood on the elfling's tunic and smeared into his white-gold hair.

"No," she stumbled forward, steadied only by the arms of her equally-pale husband beside her.

"He is all right, _Naneth,_ " the crown prince assured, seeing that she'd jumped to the wrong conclusions. "He is merely worn out and has fallen asleep. He's unhurt. The blood isn't his."

Calaeron then transferred the sleeping elf into his mother's arms, receiving only a mild protest from the boy before the child settled down in Lanthir's arms, snuggling into her warmth.

Once Thranduil was satisfied at the safety of his youngest child, he turned his eyes toward Thallion. Now that he knew one of his children was safe, he could focus on another.

"How bad?"

Calaeron helped Caranel lower Thallion from the horse and he ignored his father's question, knowing the sight of the wound and the sheer amount of blood would be answer enough.

"Spider wound," was his only reply as he laid his brother on a healer's stretcher.

* * *

It had been three days since Legolas' rescue from the forest, and Thallion had yet to stir. The royal family had worn holes into the flooring of the healing wards. Surely even the healers were tired of their presence, though they refused to leave.

None were as anxious for the elf to wake as Legolas. The little elfling spent every moment he was permitted next to his older brother, often falling asleep at his bedside, always with one hand desperately clinging to Thallion's fever-warmed fingers.

It was there that King Thranduil found his youngest son one morning, three days after the incident. He needn't have searched far, for there was only one place the child would be.

"Who is Pellion, _Ada_?"

Thranduil could not keep the surprise from his face as he locked eyes with his youngest son. Legolas was in a chair beside the still-unconscious Avar, his tiny legs swinging back and forth in thought. Legolas' voice held an edge Thranduil had never heard before.

"Where did you hear that name, Legolas?"

The elfling looked down at his hands, seemingly afraid that he was in trouble. The king kneeled in front of his youngest, gently taking both fidgeting hands into his own.

"Thall said it," Legolas explained as he looked back up at his _Adar_. "He said he 'saved Pellion' when Cal found us in the forest."

Thranduil's felt his heart constrict. After all these long years, Thallion still held himself to blame for his little brother's death. Perhaps by saving Legolas, he'd finally absolved himself of the guilt? A father could only hope.

"You remember that Thallion lost his family many years ago, _tithen pen?_ " Legolas nodded, his eyes now going wide in anticipation of a story. "He had a baby brother, Pellion, who was much smaller and younger than you are now. Sadly, the little one did not survive."

The expression on Legolas' face changed, his eyes taking on a look that was far older than his years. In that moment, Thranduil could see the adult his elfling would one day become. He couldn't help but feel that his child was destined for something bigger than himself, and Thranduil knew Legolas would be ready for it. If that one look was anything to go by, Legolas would succeed at anything he put his young mind to.

"And Thall thought it was his own fault," Legolas surmised. "Didn't he, _Ada_?"

Thranduil found himself staring at his youngest, astonished yet again by how observant his elfling was. Wisdom truly came from the most extraordinary places.

The king nodded, lifting Legolas off of the chair and gathering him into his arms, taking the elfling's place in the chair beside Thallion's bed.

"I think, _Penneth_ , that saving you has made Thallion feel much better."

Legolas beamed with joy, looking over at his brother and smiling even wider.

"Do you think Pellion would be proud of him, _Ada_?"

Thranduil felt a burst of pride course through his veins, and he smiled despite the serious conversation he never imagined he'd be having with his child. He was lucky to have such a loving little elfling for a son.

"What do you think, Legolas?"

Legolas' little face scrunched, his dark blue eyes narrowing as though he were seeing something that only he was privy to. Finally, he gave his father a smile as warm as sunshine.

"I am, _Ada._ So I know Pellion would be, too."

The king smiled once more, tucking a lock of wispy blond hair behind the child's delicately pointed ear and drawing him even closer in his embrace. He then looked over at the still form on the bed, releasing a heavy sigh. Thranduil hoped to see the young elf's gray eyes again soon. It made his heart ache every time one of his children were wounded or ill; the plight of all parents, it seemed.

Just then, Thallion let out a small groan, just loud enough to reach the ears of the elfling and the King. As though he'd sensed their hopefulness and decided to finally grace them with his presence.

"Thall?"

The child slid off his _Ada's_ lap, gingerly touching the back of the pale elf's hand with the most careful of fingers, afraid to do anything more. Legolas wasn't sure if his brother would wake, but he wanted him to know he was there.

Thick black eyelashes fluttered and Legolas stared in anticipation, leaning forward on the balls of his small feet. Maybe his Thall _would_ wake up! Surely he knew Legolas was there and would want to see him.

Legolas' little heart could hardly stand the wait when finally, Thallion's dark gray eyes opened. His tired orbs slowly took in the room before stopping and resting on Legolas, narrowing as though he were reassuring himself that the child was truly there.

" _Tithen pen_ ," the strained voice sighed, relieved to see the elfling sitting safely beside him.

"You are awake! I knew you would!"

Thallion gave him a weary smile, turning his rough hand over and grasping the smaller one in his own.

"I will always wake for you, _Penneth_."

Legolas cautiously crawled onto the bed and rested his head on Thallion's good shoulder, earning a small chuckle from the Avar and an affectionate smile from the still-silent king. A weak, pale arm pulled the little elfling closer, offering what comfort he could. Thallion then looked over Legolas' head and locked eyes with the king, offering a knowing grin to his father, reassuring him that he was going to be okay.

"They said you might not wake," Legolas sat up, fixing his brother with that intense gaze far older than that of his age, yet again. "They said that you would go to the _Halls of Nandos."_

" _Mandos_ , little one," Thallion gently corrected, tugging on a lock of blond hair and earning a musical giggle from the child. "And I am not yet ready to walk the _Halls_ , _Tithen Muindor_."

"Good."

The child's word was final. It was an order that he expected to be followed. And Thallion would do what he could to follow the young Prince's word, always.

* * *

-FiTS


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: This story was uploaded in its entirety, complete from the moment I hit publish. But the sheer number of people who followed it despite the "complete" status finally prompted me to write a new, bonus chapter. After all, supply and demand is a powerful thing! Please enjoy this new content, and be sure to go back and re-read chapter 3, as I've added nearly a thousand words of extra material._

 _Thanks!_

 _-FiTS_

* * *

Small hands gestured wildly as Legolas spent several long minutes regaling his brother with tales of all the adventures Thallion had missed out on while he was ill in the healing chambers. Thallion had been there for a length of time Legolas had described as "an age."

It was a slightly subdued version of the ritual the two shared each time they reunited after Thallion returned from one of his many patrols. Often exhausted and—to the dismay of his parents and brothers—wounded, Thallion still devoted what attention he could to Legolas once he reentered the palace.

Legolas shared several special traditions with each member of his family, but he'd always been especially drawn to Thallion. Even as a babe, the bright young child adored his brother, seeking his company whenever Thallion was available.

Thranduil still remembered watching Legolas toddle through the palace halls, sucking a thumb and toting his favorite stuffed rabbit as he followed Thallion wherever he went, always the elf's smaller shadow.

Settling against his pillows, Thallion shared several tired, but amused looks with Thranduil. Even at his weakest, Thallion had the utmost patience with his littlest brother. It was a trait Thranduil couldn't help but feel proud of every time he witnessed it.

Thranduil could have spent "an age" simply watching the exchange between his two sons, satisfied in ways only parenthood could offer.

Once Legolas had filled his big brother in on every last detail from the past few days, he settled down against him and blinked several slow, sleepy blinks. The two princes were stifling equally jaw-cracking yawns as exhaustion began settling in.

The next few minutes were passed with mostly silence between the three elves. Legolas was finally content now that his brother was awake, and Thranduil could already feel himself breathing easier just seeing his son's eyes open and alert, no longer closed within a frightfully still body.

Legolas had burrowed his little face into Thallion's right shoulder, taking fistfuls of the older elf's tunic in his small hands and sighing contentedly. The elfling was on the verge of sleep, and neither Thranduil nor Thallion would deny the child his rest.

Within moments, short little whiffles of air escaped Legolas as he succumbed to exhaustion—his eyes glazing over with elven sleep.

"He has been very worried about you," Thranduil explained in a low, gentle voice. He locked light blue eyes with Thallion's gray. The king hadn't meant to reveal just how worn out he truly was, but Thallion could see it written clear as day on the Elvenking's face.

He could easily sense the underlying message in the King's strained tone:

" _I was worried about you."_

Thranduil didn't have to say it aloud for Thallion to discern his father's fear and worry in that moment. The two had always shared a unique bond, though it was one that was rife with misunderstanding at times.

It had taken many centuries for Thallion to call the Elvenking _Adar_ for the first time, but Thranduil had been patient and understanding every step of the way. It was one thing to accept Calaeron as his older brother, as he'd never had one. But to accept two elves as parents after losing the only parents he had ever known, that was an entirely different matter.

Although it had been Lanthir who had convinced her husband to officially take him in as their child, the King would admit that he'd felt a bond with Thallion from the moment he found him, broken and bleeding, on the forest floor all those years ago. The pain and vulnerability on that young face had burned itself into Thranduil's heart, forever changing the Elvenking's life.

Thranduil couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he stopped thinking of Thallion as his ward and began thinking of him as his son.

Through the years, Thallion had seemed to distance himself from Thranduil, showing only respect and loyalty to his King. At times, he was even more formal to Lanthir—though she knew how to bring out the strong, loving young elf when she knew he needed it. Or when _she_ needed it, as this latest experience proved.

Rarely did he call them _Adar_ or _Naneth._ He'd never accepted the title of Prince, either. He preferred to stay out of the affairs of the kingdom, though Thranduil suspected Thallion often felt like he didn't quite deserve the moniker.

But as far as the kingdom was concerned, he was Prince Thallion from the day Thranduil and Lanthir formally introduced him as their son. In fact, were something to happen to the king, queen, and crown prince, Thallion would be the next in line to the throne. Whether he wanted it or not.

Looking at Thallion's pale skin, the light sheen of sweat from the remaining fever still clinging to his face, Thranduil was brought back to the present as his stomach twisted itself into uneasy knots as interwoven as the roots of the trees surrounding the palace.

Did he know how cherished he was to them? Thranduil was sure Thallion at least knew how much Legolas worshiped his older brother. That would be obvious to even the blindest of creatures. But did he understand how the rest of his family felt?

"Thallion."

Thranduil paused, his throat seizing ever so slightly at the sight of his still-wounded child, causing the name to come out as more of a question rather than the beginning of a sentence.

"Yes, my lord?"

Gray eyes met light blue, curiosity shining in their depths. Even ill and newly conscious, Thallion still addressed his father so formally, and it made the King's chest burn.

"Thallion, _ion nin,_ you have nothing to prove," Thranduil had found his words at last, not stopping at the puzzled look on Thallion's face. "Legolas told us what you went through to save him. How you refused to stop despite the poison in your body. Poison that should have taken down even the strongest of elves."

The Elvenking now had Thallion's undivided attention, earning only a slight raise of one dark, slender eyebrow.

"I have never been so frightened in my life, from the moment your mother told me Legolas had gotten lost in that forsaken forest and that you had gone after him—alone. I never wish to know fear like that ever again. You are _both_ too precious to me to ever lose."

Thranduil locked eyes with his son, hoping to convey the ache and the fear that he'd gone through. Fear that he felt in some form every time one of his children left the relative safety of the palace. He also wanted to share the immense gratitude he felt toward him for saving Legolas, a debt he'd never be able to repay his son for the rest of his undying life.

"Promise me that you will always fight not only to bring your loved ones home, but to bring _yourself_ home."

Tears slowly rolled down pale cheeks and Thallion swallowed thickly, unconsciously tightening his arm around Legolas as he craved physical contact.

"Yes, _Ada._ I promise."

Ignoring the stinging in his own eyes, Thranduil leaned forward and kissed his older son's forehead, placing one large hand over the one not captured by a sleeping elfling.

"You are cherished, _Penneth_ ," Thranduil whispered into ebony hair as he righted himself in the chair and fixed his intense gaze on his son. "Calaeron and Faervere wouldn't know what to do without you, and neither Faervere nor Legolas have ever known a world without their older brother. I hope they never have to."

Again, Thranduil didn't have to say it. He didn't have to tell Thallion his deepest fear: losing one of his beloved sons.

"Rest, my child."

Thallion bestowed upon his father a sleepy, yet peaceful smile. There had been enough seriousness between them for now. They would talk more when Thallion regained his strength, and that time would come eventually.

It didn't take long for sleep to begin creeping over Thallion's features, and Thranduil felt warmth flood his heart once again. He and Lanthir were the luckiest elves in all of Middle Earth to have been blessed with four strong, beautiful, loving sons.

Gently easing Legolas from his tight hold on Thallion, chuckling at the affronted whimpers, Thranduil carried his youngest out of the room.

He closed the door behind him and finally felt content for the first time in months.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading! This story is officially complete and I will not be adding any additional chapters. However, I would like to announce a sequel that I have just uploaded. Look for it on my page, it's called "The Flame to Light the Way." I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!_

 _Take care!_

 _~FiTS_


End file.
